A lot of times I’m a hard ass.
When it comes to heroism, I take a strict definition: a hero is someone who takes significant risk to help others without a personal stake in it. You have to meet all parts of that sentence to be a hero in my eyes.
I have good company. Ari Kohen says he’s a heroic hardliner. Sports players and celebrities aren’t heroes for him. Matt Langdon joins him, arguing that not every soldier is a hero. Like them, I want to reserve the term “hero” for people who do the truly extraordinary.
So when we started talking about everyday adventure I took the same approach. That may be a mistake.
Heroism can have a universal, be-this-tall-to-ride definition, because no one can declare themselves a hero. Hero is a title bestowed by others. That requires some kind of agreed-upon definition.
Adventure is different.
You can decide what adventure means. So can I. You can’t call yourself a hero, but you can call yourself an adventurer. Try it, it feels pretty good. My business card says I’m an adventurer. No one laughs.
You are the decider of what is an adventure—for you. You are the one who knows your personal limits and bounds, so you know if you’re pushing them.
I have to thank readers for helping me understand this. You guys patiently explained the travails that became adventures in your own lives, and created a clear sense of how one adventures without leaving the house.
This leaves a loose end.
Does adventure require physical risk?
It’s tempting to say it does. Big or small, the things we usually call “adventures” involve some level of danger.
If physical risk is essential, adventure becomes the flip side of heroism. Heroism is taking risk for others, adventure is taking risk for your own sake (for the thrill, for the edification, for the experience).
This still leaves a pretty large canopy. The person who’s afraid of dogs and takes one for a walk faces physical risk. The person who has a disability and enters a marathon faces physical risk.
But the “risk clause” would exclude some activities. Under that definition, learning guitar may be an important personal challenge but it’s not an adventure. “Adventure” becomes reserved for things that could be dangerous, on any scale.
Is that a good addition to understanding adventure, or is it too limiting? Is physical risk an essential part of what makes adventure adventurous?
Drew Jacob, Rogue Priest
August 2nd, 2012 at 8:26 am
Hmm. I’m not sure. Risk, yes. But does it have to be physical risk? What about serious financial risk – like when people start businesses that could become huge or collapse entirely, taking your life savings with it? What about
I also define physical risk differently from you. Physical risk is just as subjective as the concept of adventure is. For me, forget marathons – walking down to the lake from where I’ve parked (as I did this morning) is unbelievably risky. It also isn’t wise, and long-term if I keep doing it too often I’ll damage my body irreversibly. So once again we’re back to the idea that I’m excluded from adventure. Not sure how I feel about that.
My PhD journey that I was talking about yesterday has not involved physical risk. Financial risk – absolutely. And lots of other kinds of risk. But not physical, except to the extent that I initially moved out of home for a year and no longer had the support of my family, as a result of which I had more falls and accidents. But that was more of a challenge than a risk.
I’m still thinking this one through. Maybe I’m not worthy of the term ‘adventurer’ after all. But I can’t help wondering if that’s because highly active (and non-disabled) people define these terms, in our modern, well-off society. People who can afford to go on adventures – financially, and/or because of their family situations, and in so many more ways. Those people get to define everything. Can’t people in less comfortable situations also have the chance to define what *their* adventures are like?
For me, advent
August 2nd, 2012 at 8:28 am
Eek – commenting from a phone meant parts of that message got eaten – apologies but I think you got most of it!
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:24 am
No worries :)
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:24 am
Sophia, it sounds like you take physical risk every day to live your adventure. If your adventure is your turn to academia, and just going to the college involves damage to your body, isn’t that taking a (rather extraordinary) physical risk for your dream?
I’m not convinced that it has to be physical risk, but that sure is what the word “adventure” seems to conjure up in my head. There are many other kinds of risk, but are those adventure? Or are they other types of endeavors?
Again, I’m not sure. I think I’m trying to find a middle ground, a way for “adventure” to be very open to interpretation yet still capture what we generally mean by that word.
August 2nd, 2012 at 11:31 am
Ah, no – the walk down to the lake that I took this morning was a purely voluntary thing unconnected to my studies. (A mad spiritual thing I occasionally feel compelled to do. I wanted to talk to Manannan, and the water was down at the bottom of the hill! None of that feels like adventure, really.) My studies are on a nice, safe campus where my parking space is near my office! But you raise an interesting point, and maybe I should see more of my life as mini-adventures. I’m doing a tiny series on my blog about my summer travels around my little country, and a few of those were, well, if not adventurous, certainly challenging from a wheelchair. ‘Challenge’ isn’t a bad word for a lot of my endeavours.
But I also wonder if you miss my point. Adventure shouldn’t have to involve me doing potential harm to my fragile body, if that is unwise. There are other risks I can take that are just as meaningful and won’t end up with me no longer able to get out of bed (which would start to seriously preclude any kind of future adventure). I don’t want to be told, at the next Pagan camp I try to go to that’s not accessible to wheelchairs, to think if it as an adventure (while I either get excluded or harm myself). One of my key spiritual values is valuing and being sensible with my body. I sometimes think people whose bodies do what they’re told are liable to underestimate what that means for disabled, older, or chronically ill people. So I reiterate: very little physical danger in my PhD. I made sure of that in advance. Too much security to be an adventure, as a result? I see what you mean about the general cultural idea of the word – but I also wonder if you’re seeing that too narrowly. I think there are many people out there who do understand adventure in the broader sense.
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:10 pm
Excellently said.
August 2nd, 2012 at 8:42 am
I’m not sold yet on the idea that “danger” and “risk” are exactly the same thing (such is the difficultly with synonyms – we have two words for a reason).
I think I can get behind a “risk clause” for adventuring. It doesn’t seem like it’s an adventure if you don’t put something on the line to get it done. I don’t think, however, that physical risk is the only risk you can take. Of course, near and dear to my heart, is mental risk and emotional risk, neither of which are often found under the banner of “physical.”
You know I’m interested in learning to play the bodhran. For me, this is not an adventure – I risk nothing if I fail, don’t follow through, or just wander off to another form of learning. However, when I was 20 and excruciatingly poor, I may have been able to call it an adventure, because losing the $300 or so for a decent beginner instrument could have been catastrophic for my finances.
Being a hero is an outside thing – it refers specifically to actions that affect others. Because of that, it makes sense that we set and maintain a definition that we can agree on. But an adventure may include no one but you. Because of that, and because personal limits are so, well, personal, it makes sense that “adventure” may have an intensely personal definition.
For me, here’s how I might go about defining an adventure:
1) It must be purposeful. Killing a surprise bug in my kitchen is certainly an opportunity for growth, but it isn’t an adventure. Going camping or hiking is an adventure. I’m attacking the same boundary, but in one case, it’s thrust upon me, and in the other I’m mindfully choosing to do so.
2) There is risk, but perhaps not danger. Going to a large party is an adventure for me, if I choose to make it so, There’s no danger, not really. But there are a number of risks. I could alienate the people I’d really like to impress. I could *think* I’d alienated people, and fall into a depression for several days because of that, neglecting my job and my family. (Such are the inherent risks for a non-typical neurology.)
3) There is an accurate and quantifiable measure of success. Did I stay at the camp for two days? Did I go the party and actually choose to talk to people and interact? Did I get to the top of the mountain or the end of the trail?
4) There is an element of growth. I can choose to go to a party and sit quietly in the corner, choosing not to speak to anyone. This is not an adventure. For someone who lives in a remote area, coming downtown might be an adventure. For me, being downtown is most certainly not – but visiting them might be.
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:25 am
Great comment Colleen, thank you.
Does it matter that your definition includes a whole lot of things that don’t really fit what the word “adventure” usually conjures up?
August 2nd, 2012 at 11:53 am
Yes and no. :) If I am talking to someone that has a specific definition of “adventure,” then to communicate, we have to agree on which definition we’re going to use. If we go with the traditional definition, I would change my language to match: calling things a struggle, or growth, or experiences.
If someone writes a post asking for an informed discussion on adventure, then no, not so much. As with anything we define, it’s far more important to know that everyone involved in the discussion is using the same definitions than it is to use a definition that most people gravitate to.
My definition of, say, platform is not the same definition that a politician would use. Same word, different circumstances. When writing copy for an outdoor gearing company, for example, you’re probably looking for a very easy to grasp, first thing that springs to mind definition of adventure. For a lifestyle emphasizing heroism and adventure, you have the leisure to spend time explaining to people how you’re using this word that they think they know the meaning to.
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:33 pm
So for those who really want to focus on physical adventure, is there a way to identify or talk about that that doesn’t sound snooty to people who are more about conquering inner fears or disabilities? Can we have a word for that kind of thing (physical risk-taking), and if it isn’t adventure, what is it?
August 4th, 2012 at 12:59 am
I wonder…could it be as simple as sub-types of adventure? Maybe just calling it “a physical adventure” or “a traveling adventure” or something of that ilk? Perhaps that would allow you to express the specificity you want without implying anything is greater or less about some other person’s definition of adventure. It’s just a different type.
August 4th, 2012 at 1:00 am
(Belated addition to the above): But of course, that’s only useful if it feels authentic to you.
August 4th, 2012 at 1:41 am
Adventure has three very specific definitions that I will summarize: 1) an undertaking that involves risk, 2) an exciting and remarkable experience, 3) enterprise involving financial risk
The roots of the word: ADVENTURE
Middle English aventure, chance, risk, from Anglo-French, from Vulgar Latin *adventura, from Latin adventus, past participle of advenire to arrive, from ad- + venire to come
I would say then it’s “to venture, take a chance, to arrive — come — go with risk”
Simple as that. No need to put any other tags on it. Only distinction is Adventure is more pronounced than our other events in life because we define it to be so, nothing more. What we risk may not be a risk to someone else. What we set out to discover may not be important to someone else. Our adventure is authentic to us as we see fit because it is exceptional in our experience.
August 6th, 2012 at 11:06 am
For the record, I do not consider dictionaries useful sources of definitions.
Dictionaries are designed to give a brief, lowest-common-denominator definition. They are ideal for students, or someone who is learning English as a second language. When it comes to abstract ideas like love, faith, or adventure, dictionaries are wholly insufficient.
Dictionary definitions should be considered only the very beginning of what a word means, never the final answer.
August 6th, 2012 at 10:58 am
Isn’t that always the rub… :)
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:14 am
Risk comes in more forms than physical risk. There is emotional/psychological and social risks to consider too. The guitar player may risk total humiliation and have people spread word that this player should not to be considered to perform there or anywhere else. Which can have huge impacts in their social lives there after and cause a bout of depression. How is that not risk?
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:16 am
There are many kinds of risk, but are non-physical risks really what the word “adventure” conjures up?
I’m not sure.
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:20 am
If that experience contributes to personal growth I think it is.
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:27 am
In that case, what is the difference between an “adventure,” a “lesson,” a “meditation,” “exploring,” and “seeking”?
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:30 am
Meditation, lesson, and seeking doesn’t also have risk involved. Its the combination of risk and growth that does it really. At least it does in my thoughts.
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:48 am
(Further Thoughts) Adventure is a)Outside your comfort zone, b) Has some form of risk (physical/social/mental), and c) Personal growth (can possibly be a side bonus though)
The higher the risk the greater the benefit, and the more spontaneity involved the of an adventure it would be.
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:09 pm
This seems like a pretty good summary. I like it.
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:10 pm
That sounds a lot like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, something I was trained for to treat my PSTD, but it did not completely stick. That was more of an ordeal than an adventure. It only becomes an adventure when “fun” is added to the mix, when I wanted to face the danger/memories that haunted me for years. A better therapy is Dialectical Behavioral Therapy which incorporates Transcendental Meditation techniques. Look it up. It’s awesome for all kinds of phobias and mental disabilities. It helps turn what would normally be a painful ordeal into the perspective of an adventure — taking the pain out of the fear, and making the fear more like the excitement I used to get before a concert or the anticipation of going on a first date — it becomes more passion, less anxiety.
If you ask me, Drew, and Rua, I believe it is *not* risk but passion that drives us into adventure. We don’t want to head into an adventure because we want to prove something or risk our lives or make our loved ones miserable worrying over us as we tramp all over the world, no, we head out into adventure because we LOVE it. Adventure is in the heart.
Some of us go mad with desire for it.
August 2nd, 2012 at 6:16 pm
I find that really interesting because in the Edge program I took that revolved around outdoor recreation, our instructor had specifically made this chart that showed a diagonal line on the increase, where risk was the x axis and benefit was the y axis. The more risk involved in the activity the more of a ‘head rush’/adrenaline you’d get. Essentially a chart showing why there are thrill seekers in the world. Your brain gets a positive boost when it succeeds in the risk taking. Doing something that involves risk isn’t always a bad thing. I’d even say that its healthy thing to do now and then.
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:02 pm
I believe so, too. Every now and then you gotta tell those risks to “suck it” and defeating them really builds up confidence and self esteem.
August 6th, 2012 at 10:23 am
Well said Rua.
August 3rd, 2012 at 5:20 am
I think that’s a really nice definition!
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:19 am
I do agree that my immediate reaction is to say that adventure does have to be physical….but that may be an artifact of the way our culture uses the word, rather than a meaningful distinction.
I think I would say that adventure doesn’t have to involve actual physical risk – because the reality is that all risk feels just as intense as physical danger. Our bodies and our emotions are one. As someone with an anxiety disorder, I can promise you that something panic inducing feels just as scary as any physical risk. You are blessed with a nervous system that is able to say “this activity does not put my life in danger, so it’s not that big a deal. Just don’t worry about it.” But when my nerves are really firing, my heart is pounding, I can’t breathe, and my thoughts are stuck on repeat, the idea of being vulnerable to someone, or failing at something, or going to a party alone feels just as terrifying as would bungee jumping with a fear of heights – or pushing myself to go to the bottom of the pool last night even though I’ve been afraid of doing that since I took swimming lessons in 6th grade.
Or walking to South America. Pushing a physical boundary will induce emotional fear – and pushing an emotional boundary will induce physical reactions, and will feel just as risky to many of us as would a physical risk. So I’m not sure it would add much to require that “adventure” require a physical element.
That said, I have a return question for you, Drew: Can you explore why the physical part of adventure feels important to you? What do you feel it adds to the word?
August 2nd, 2012 at 11:57 am
Yes, this: “You are blessed with a nervous system that is able to say “this activity does not put my life in danger, so it’s not that big a deal. Just don’t worry about it.””
We’ve talked about my phobia, but did you know that when I see a bug, my heartrate goes up, more adrenaline floods my system, I physically turn paler, my breathing increases, and I start to shake?
It’s hard to understand what a “panic attack” really is if you’ve never had one. But believe me – my whole body gets in on the act. A prolonged panic attack can leave me feeling weak and tired for days.
…So. Does putting myself into a situation where I absolutely will have to deal with my phobia constitute physical risk?
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:25 pm
That’s a good question. Does it?
Also, interesting that you quoted that line of Beth’s – it stood out to me too for totally different reasons. See my reply to her below.
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:24 pm
This stands out at me as… well, wrong.
I think the point is often (and rightly) made that people without anxiety disorders or panic attacks cannot understand what it’s like for people who do have them.
I guess that, likewise, people who do have them cannot understand what it’s like not to have them.
The statement quoted here almost feels like a cartoon version of what it’s like to be me. I’m grateful that, in most cases, I can process stress, fear and anxiety without a panic attack or a breakdown. But it’s nothing like this.
When I face risk there is a raging, screaming fear in every inch of my body. It affects my breathing, pulse, adrenaline and how clearly I can think. It is an inner struggle to force myself to do what I want to do despite the fear. Sometimes I lose the struggle. There are some sources of anxiety where I’m better at winning the struggle than others. But a lot of the time I have to rely on external factors to push myself through.
The idea that I can turn off fear is surreal. It’s hard to understand that someone who knows me so well can think this about me. I don’t really know how to process that.
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:35 pm
(Building on this, because it made me think…)
In those cases where I have not been able to process my anxiety, and ended up having an anxiety attack, I did not consider it an adventure. I’m not sure why that is, but the fact that I was lying down on a bed and worrying about money – not outside worrying about something physical – may have been part of it.
August 2nd, 2012 at 9:00 pm
Anxiety attacks are ordeals, Drew. I believe that adventures require not risks, but enjoyment. We accept adventure and look forward to it because we want to change, we want to face forward, we want to break a record, and we want to push the limits.
I suffer from PTSD and I do not let it hold me back anymore from doing anything I love, especially if I really want it. In fact, when I put love behind it, say I want to meet up with a friend who lives in a dangerous part of a big city, I will go there despite experiences I had where I survived two shootings that took the lives of friends in my distant past, because chances are it won’t happen again. Even if I do have a panic attack, it only lasts for 15 minutes, about the same time it takes for me to meditate and clear my mind.
What I’m saying here is… Adventure = throw caution to the wind, do because you love it, despite any desperate fears, you do it because you dare not let fear get in the way of what you love. There.
August 6th, 2012 at 10:45 am
Thank you, Val.
August 4th, 2012 at 12:49 am
Forgive my oversimplification. I didn’t mean to imply that you are never afraid or can “turn off” fear. I guess what I mean is that those of us whose nervous systems tend to be more reactive are more likely to have an anxious reaction to a less intense experience. I was thinking of the one million times we’ve had a conversation in which you’ve said, “it’ll be fine, don’t worry about it” and my reply was something like “I’m trying, it’s just not very easy for me to do that.” I just think that your system is more balanced than mine, so you don’t have to talk yourself out of that fear as often as I do. I often know in one part of my head that this isn’t unsafe, even though it does FEEL unsafe because of my anxiety. I just think that the times I have decided to do something that FELT unsafe did feel like adventure, at least to me, even though some part of me knew it wasn’t that big a deal.
August 4th, 2012 at 1:11 am
Hope you don’t mind I respond to what you said here, Beth, but I think Drew (if he doesn’t mind me saying it) was simply and briefly talking you out of the anxiety. When he and I shared adventures, or just a walk around the block and I’d lose my cool and fly into a panic attack, I was impressed that he never made a fuss like most people do when they see someone in a panic. I would ask him to give me a distraction, nothing big, just a little something to get me take my focus off the anxiety. In his own way, I believe he wasn’t trying to show you that he had better nerves than you, he was just telling you, literally, not to worry about it.
Even though it is not easy, or an automatic thing for many people suffering from panic to do, it can be with practice and dedication to improving your mental health. The more you focus on what is making you panic, the more you will remain in that state of anxiety, and the more difficult it will be for you to calm down.
The start to achieving balance is to change your thoughts, starting with one thought at a time. Just one thought starts the process. If you have Panic Disorder like I do, then you will have a lifetime of talking yourself down to calm yourself! There is nothing wrong with that. Don’t feel bad about that. And don’t envy Drew. I used to idolize him for his calm resolve… until I finally saw that he had his own fair share of imperfections and problems, too. What may seem like a big deal to one of us may be only a little one to others, yet we should not let that take the magic out of building our life experiences.
If it felt large and scary to you, than it was a big deal and it needs to be embraced as adventure in your life experience. Don’t let someone else’s opinion of what adventure is or isn’t make you doubt your exceptional and unique Beth’s-eye-view of how wonderful it is to experience life as Beth!
August 6th, 2012 at 10:58 am
Good point.
August 2nd, 2012 at 9:55 pm
I have to add my two cent’s worth in here because I have dealt with Panic Disorder and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for half of my life now. My sympathies, Beth and Colleen, for your troubles with panic. The two of you describe and touch upon some of the physical symptoms, but not all of them…
“You are blessed with a nervous system that is able to say “this activity does not put my life in danger, so it’s not that big a deal. Just don’t worry about it.”
This is what you think you are telling your mind to think, but in reality your body — your muscles, arms, legs, stomach — each has nerve memory and will react to the “perfect storm” of atmospheric triggers, not all of them physical. Many women, like me, who have survived multiple assaults, had their mind’s natural defenses kick in to help them fight back and survive — the panic gets delayed and plays out later once we are safe, sometimes not coming to the surface for years. You may be telling yourself “I’m okay, there is nothing going on to hurt me, I’m in no danger” but the body is remembering in a way in which the trauma is happening again. You cannot just shut it off with a switch. You can train your mind and body to cooperate, but it takes time. You can adjust.
Panic can creep up on you when you least will it to happen, sometimes it doesn’t happen at all. Many times I’ve had attacks happen during travel and I’ve had to compensate in public, give myself more time to get to destination, and if possible, travel with people who are understanding. Too often I have experienced people outright rejecting me for a public panic attack because they think you’re faking it. This is where having an animal traveling companion comes in handy. There are anti-anxiety dogs and other animals specially trained to assist people with panic disorders. They do so by distraction, getting the human being to focus instead on them, not on whatever is freaking them out.
I have traveled with a companion! There is hope for panic disordered people who want to travel! It’s true! Don’t give up! They are working animals accepted everywhere. My cat, Mr. Snuggles, is one of them.
My physical symptoms happen much less now after practicing meditation more regularly (sometimes I have to up to four times a day and if I get lazy, I get unbalanced) but when I slip up, I get the shakes, I forget to breathe, I talk too fast, and my heart starts skipping. Last time I had a major attack, it induced what I thought was a heart attack because my legs and hands went numb and I couldn’t walk. Now, that, my dear, is a panic attack you do not want to experience. I hope you do not ever feel that bad.
Panic can affect our bodies in many ways — our blood pressure, blood sugar, the way we reason… Panic Disorder is one where your mind has no clear control over how often you will panic or what you will panic over. Just when you think you figured out that it’s one phobia, you get over that one, and then another thing rears its ugly head and you start the process of facing your fear all over again.
Normal panic is the kind where you can get overwhelmed with fear of any sort. It’s up to you to decide whether you want to remain paralyzed by it or not. I have a defect that makes it difficult for me to deal with it, but then I just keep going. I have to. No one else is going to pull me up out of it.
So, Beth, and Colleen, I don’t know you both well, but I want to tell you, despite any and all panic, you can be like me and say “suck it” to that panic and get yourself out into the world and live it! If I can find a way to do it, I think you can do.
Yay.
August 2nd, 2012 at 12:34 pm
Another thought: is adventure by definition voluntary? Somehow I think of it that way – a difficult experience that leads to growth but is forced upon you doesn’t feel like it fits the term “adventure.” Yes or no?
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:27 pm
Some people use it for accidental events. Getting lost can be “an adventure” for example. I draw a line between accidental adventure, which often takes the form of a crisis, and adventure-as-practice, which is more like a challenge you give yourself. Both can have the same positive effects but the accidental, crisisy adventure is a lot more dangerous and even traumatic.
August 2nd, 2012 at 9:23 pm
Accidental crisis an adventure? Oh, no. That is, by definition, an emergency, or, to be more frank, an ordeal. I would not, sir, deem by any means the times I have watched people die from bullet holes and stab wounds after accidentally getting injured during a festival an adventure. Not, not an ordeal either.
That. Is. Trauma.
I do not recommend going into trauma on purpose.
August 6th, 2012 at 10:49 am
I think we’re making the same point in different ways, Val.
Many people refer to accidental things as adventures. In fact, I would say more people get into accidental adventures than take intentional ones.
But unplanned adventure can easily lead to trauma, which is why intentional adventure is a much safer and more valuable way of doing things.
August 4th, 2012 at 12:53 am
Nice distinction. You’re both absolutely right that accidental events can be crisis and/or trauma. I think the line is probably rather fluid – if I’m lost (which happens often) I can sometimes calm myself down and *choose* to consider this to be an adventure; if it feels more dangerous or scary, then I’d put it more in the “crisis” category. Definitely a useful distinction.
August 2nd, 2012 at 4:56 pm
Physical risk? What about just “personal risk” in general? That would cover just about anything and everything. From what I’ve gathered from reading your blog over this last year so far, Drew, this is what I have assessed, from memory, the risks we all take whenever WE DARE to go beyond our limits, explore the unknown, take things one step further, and all without a predictable outcome or plan when we go for the Great Adventure:
— The Big List of Personal Risks —
1) Emotional Loss:
In the form of separations, estrangement during long journeys, being the cause of distress to family and friends as they worry about your safety, relationships break-up, and other factors like having to say good-bye to new friends as soon as you meet them.
2) Bodily Harm/Injury:
Accidents happen, animal bites, allergic reactions, attacks, fights, even struggles against nature itself depending upon the terrain, and surviving threats on your life by people who do it just because they don’t know you.
3) Financial Disaster:
Money and equipment gets stolen, lost credit, bad investments, someone conned you out of your cash, gypsies pick-pocketed your savings, or maybe you misplaced something. Whatever the reason, the money gets gone.
4) Estrangement:
Could happen you become lost, or just get lonely in a strange land, if you’re a very social person, this can really get to you. This estrangement forces you to be truly independent because you have no choice — you only have yourself to rely on.
5) Desecration of Character, Career, and Body:
This may be something you have not covered — while in a different part of the world, you could make a grave social faux pas, you risk losing your job to take the adventure (I faced that risk once) but go ahead and do it anyway, and if your body has not been harmed by accident, fight, or bite, you could be raped (this includes if you are a man, too). Desecration of your body could also happen after you die. If you die somewhere during your adventure, your body may be left in a place where your relatives may not be able to retrieve it, it could be put in an unmarked place, or some other things were done to it… something extreme, perhaps unlikely, but anything can happen.
6) Untimely or Violent Death:
This is always a probability, even at home! Death can happen anywhere and at anytime. You don’t have to be an adventurer to call it out to play. Everyone should always plan for death and make sure to set up funds or some arrangement to make it easy on your family when the time comes (no matter what your age).
And you know what?
After making this list…
I have just realized something, Drew. These are the exact same risks everyone takes in everyday life.
Perhaps the risks we think we are taking when we set out for adventure are NOT as grand as we lead ourselves to believe.
Perhaps “adventure” in the sense that it is hero-making (or hero-training) is all ILLUSION — we use adventure to make our ordinary lives extraordinary because we think we lack greatness, that we need greatness in order to prove to ourselves that we can be great — are we meant for this greatness? What does setting out to live adventure prove to us? To the world? To the Gods?
And is it the Heroic Life, or just simply the Adventurous Life, Drew, that you are truly defining during your journey now? It is beginning to sound that way. RESPOND TO ME PLEASE!
Forgive me if I can’t get to this reply back in time when I get busy, but so far this is the BEST distraction *wink!* (I love this subject)
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:09 pm
I generally don’t respond to all-caps orders that I respond; so other than making that policy public, I’ll leave this one be.
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:14 pm
Normally I don’t use all caps to make a request, but I’ve noted you don’t often reply as much to my comments, hence the desperate plea. So I will only do it this once.
August 2nd, 2012 at 5:30 pm
I don’t feel that physical risk should be involved by necessity. I think others here have made a good case for the fact that out of all types of risk, the physical sort does not reign supreme, and would also like to point out that calls many, and maybe most, modern adventures moot. Aside that it excludes people who seriously cannot and should not be placing themselves at physical risk for a variety of reasons (like my handicapped friends and relatives who are in the unfortunate position of being almost immobile and often bedriddden)
I think that your thought on that perhaps the physical risk aspect as a relic is a good thing to muse about. If you think about adventure, in real examples, what do you think of? Mythology, folk tales, all the classics, these are from a different era and they do embody adventure but they don’t have to exclude anything that’s not, say, dragon-slaying, if you know what I mean. I think they just happen to be that way because that’s how people were – this sedentary lifestyle is relatively new.
I am thinking to myself … I am not even sure if I would place risk in my definition at all. I might consider, for certain people, placing themselves outside of their normal comfort zone, just doing something very different that stretches themselves as a person, is enough.
And I have an interesting question to pose you. If one goes on an adventure every day, is it still an adventure?
If you get up every day and bike to a new place, how many days is it before that’s normal, and staying put is an adventure?
One of my greatest “adventures”, which I purposefully embarked on and worked very hard on… was learning how to NOT have what I would call adventures… No joke. It was a very important quest for me, and it changed my life… which, really, was the point.
August 2nd, 2012 at 7:40 pm
I’ve been thinking about that, and I think you might be right: it’s not that adventure meaning only physical danger that causes me to frown; it’s that you seem to place a far higher premium on (physical) adventure than any other form of self-imposed challenge. It’s the same thing as with travel: there’s a focus on the physicality of the whole thing. Perhaps two statements are really needed here:
1) Intentional self-challenge is an integral part of a heroic lifestyle, and
2) Physical adventure is one firm of intentional self-challenge
August 2nd, 2012 at 9:14 pm
I agree. There is too much focus on the only the physical aspect of risk. As I thought about it tonight, I think the love of the adventure out weighs the risk. I believe adventure is more about what we desire to do over what we fear. We take the challenge despite the risks because it is something we really desire to do.
But does it lead to heroism? Is it training ground for heroic deeds? Not really. Can it be extraordinary? Maybe, indeed.
Yet as I said earlier, I am coming to the conclusion that adventure is also an illusion — the risks involved are only elevated because it only seems more dangerous than everyday life — when in fact everyday life is the true adventure.
We do not have to take a Great Adventure to become a hero. We don’t have to quest to find our better selves. Nor climb mountains and walk barefoot across countries to meet the Gods. Human beings do those things because they feel they must *and* because they desire to. No one has to do those things.
You can still adventure in many other ways as you see fit. Risks are everywhere and you can take them if you require them to have an adventure. If you feel you need challenge to strengthen your character, take one to build that kind of muscle. But why do it at all if you don’t have the WISH or DESIRE to just have an adventure? It’s the drive, the motivation, the very heart, the center of adventure that gets us into it, and without that there would be no such thing as adventure. Screw risk. If it were all about risk, I wouldn’t leave my house at all. Period.
(excuse the all caps there, Drew, but I would use CSS if I could to emphasize, so just deal with it)
August 6th, 2012 at 10:47 am
I agree on all points. Thanks for this.
August 6th, 2012 at 10:28 am
That’s quite eloquent. Thank you, Colleen.
August 2nd, 2012 at 8:57 pm
Somehow this discussion feels a little bit like ones that happen in aesthetics and art classes where they ask, “what is art?”. The opinions will likely always be very individual and highly varied. I always feel the conversation is interesting, but it likely never will have a definitive answer.
Is a universal definition important? If one feels one is on an adventure, isn’t it enough? Or is it only an adventure if others decide it is? Or are there “standard” adventures, like Jason and the Argonauts, which become standards with the retelling and history, and then there are nonstandards/permutations/evolution of what is an adventure.
But is it like art? Like, “I don’t know if THIS is ART, but I like it.” Because in the end, some part of adventure is always positive. And I like it.
August 2nd, 2012 at 9:19 pm
I think everyone here is slowly getting to the true answer, and I’m surprised Drew didn’t really have a clear definition, or maybe he does and he’s just sitting back watching everyone come up with some!
August 2nd, 2012 at 9:31 pm
I bet he is and is snickering while he twirls his imaginary mustache ;P
August 2nd, 2012 at 10:01 pm
Well, now I’ve left a lot of replies to keep him and everyone else plenty busy… this discussion has made me very *very* obsessed tonight. :-)
And thank you so much, Rua Lupa, for replying! I enjoy coming to Drew’s blog, known him for eons, and love reading all the replies — it’s hard NOT to leave long replies of my own. Yay.
August 6th, 2012 at 10:49 am
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August 6th, 2012 at 10:34 am
Beautiful point, Jen. Thanks for this.
I write about adventure and I want to help encourage more people to seek adventure. So, to me, it’s important to get a sense of how lots of people use the word and how my own definition does or does not represent that. I’m evolving in response to what I learn here, because I’m gaining the sum knowledge of dozens of people’s experiences with adventure instead of just my own.
So, to me, it’s important.
But I agree that on the whole it is subjective.
August 3rd, 2012 at 1:36 am
What about expanding “risk” to include severe risk to one’s personal ego? For example, an agoraphobe risks no physical harm in venturing outside, but the fears faced may make it one of the most significant adventures for them. Personally, I’m not sure I would say learning guitar is an adventure, but learning to perform guitar under the pressure of significant stage fright might be.
August 4th, 2012 at 1:28 am
That’s a very good point, B.T.! Even sufferers from social anxieties go through the challenges of facing their fears by just simply going to a public place. Meeting new people can become a frightening, knuckle-biting adventure every bit as thrilling as an action movie, and as much of a pressure-cooker as stage fright is, too.
But is risk to personal ego the term for it? For instance, if someone has a mental disability and has to overcome challenges everyday to ordinary people are nothing unusual. But there is one thing, say, traveling on a plane to visit another country, that is incredibly difficult, near impossible, for the person to do. Yet this is their dream adventure and they want to do it even though they’re told they can’t. Many autistic people cannot handle traveling by plane, especially children, yet it’s not impossible. If our person is autistic and decides to go through with their dream despite being told they shouldn’t or can’t because of health issues or whatever, then it’s not really a risk they are taking, they fully know but are determined to beat those risks because they want to — their desire drives them into adventure.
Does desire then trump the risk? Do we need more desire than risk? I’m coming to the conclusion that we may not even need risk at all to have adventure. I’m also believing now that adventure is what we make it. That adventure is illusion. Adventure is only a life event we define as exceptional because it is different from our other life experiences, not different because we are facing a net set of risks. The risks of adventure are the same as the risks we face all the time. The risks we take when we adventure are only just more pronounced.
What do you think?
August 3rd, 2012 at 7:29 am
I spent a lot of time thinking about this post before feeling comfortable to chime in. I have “Adventurer” on my business cards, too, so if I feel okay calling myself one I really should know what it means to be one, right?
I am curiously risk adverse. I don’t like the idea of great bodily harm. What is more interesting – I don’t have a fear of death particularly. If great bodily harm lead to death every time I would feel pretty good about the life I’ve lived. I am afraid of great bodily harm ending in Not-Death. My partner, on the other hand, is not afraid of either.
So, how can I call myself an adventurer if I am afraid of bodily harm? Well, just because I’m afraid of it doesn’t mean I cage myself up and don’t go outside. I’m not going to jump out of an airplane any time soon but I am willing to risk my safety traveling to the townships of South Africa to help kids I’ve never met. I am willing to risk my ability to fund my life by quitting my good job and starting from scratch. I suppose in some ways I risk small things every day by living in a cabin off the grid.
But for me, the physical risk is secondary. There are two things for me that are important to Adventuring.
1) Not wanting to settle for just one adventure. Now that the tiny house is built, we can’t stop coming up with ideas for the next possible adventure. We have quite a few things in mind – just like we did before settling on building the house. Eventually one of them will be the adventure we *have* to do and we will do it.
2) At some point in any adventure the adventurer must question what they hell they think they’re doing. If you don’t have at least a few moments of doubt: “What have I gotten into?”…”What was I thinking?”…”How in the gods names did I imagine I could ever pull this off?”…then they aren’t adventuring. In my experience that moment usually comes after some minor disaster that I simply didn’t see coming. It makes me want to throw in the towel and go running to safety. My latest adventure took away the safety net so now when I think those thoughts I have no choice but to continue. And that is what makes someone an adventurer. Having those moments of absolute despair thinking there is no way this can be possible and DOING IT ANYWAY.
August 6th, 2012 at 10:54 am
As a fellow adventurer, I just want to add that I, too, am afraid of bodily harm.
Also:
YES!
August 6th, 2012 at 2:56 pm
[...] is this spirit called? What draws it into being? I don’t know, I’m just an adventurer. There’s no prescription for adventure. More like a recipe book, a wizard’s secret [...]